


you will heal and you'll rise above

by patrichor



Series: these wounded hearts can mend [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Gen, Good Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt/Comfort, Mental Health Issues, Phil Needs a Hug, Piglin Hybrid Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Piglin Hybrid Wilbur Soot, Protective Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Protective Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Self-Destructive Behavior, Sleepy Bois Inc as Family, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Technoblade Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), Twins Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, Wilbur Soot Needs a Hug, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, Wilbur Soot has PTSD, Wilbur Soot-centric, everyone except the first three only appear through letters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:55:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29917917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patrichor/pseuds/patrichor
Summary: The first thing Wilbur does when they get home is collapse onto his old bed and sleep. He's been awake for days and stressed beyond belief for months, and the adrenaline and sheer willpower carrying him through the rebellion has completely drained away.
Relationships: Floris | Fundy & Wilbur Soot, Karl Jacobs & Wilbur Soot, Niki | Nihachu & Wilbur Soot, Toby Smith | Tubbo & Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Series: these wounded hearts can mend [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2156622
Comments: 32
Kudos: 165





	you will heal and you'll rise above

**Author's Note:**

> finally got this done pog ^^
> 
> im rlly tired so it i seem less enthusiastic... yeah
> 
> anyway i've been working on this one for a while, since a little bit after publishing the previous one, and it... shows. like the first one was 4k, right? this one is fucking 12k it basically tripled in size jeebus
> 
> honestly im not quite as proud of this one as the first, but i dont think i'll be able to make it any better so :shrug:
> 
> also yeah, all the oneshot titles are gonna be from the same song. it's... poetic, or whatever (?) :'
> 
> anyway hope yall enjoy :}

The first thing Wilbur does when they get home is collapse onto his old bed and sleep. He's been awake for days and stressed beyond belief for months, and the adrenaline and sheer willpower carrying him through the rebellion has completely drained away.

He sleeps for almost two full days, waking up briefly and eating a little when Phil asks him to. He doesn't really want to eat, exactly, but it's Phil asking and he doesn't have the heart to refuse. He spends the first week or so in a cycle of sleeping, waking up briefly and being coaxed to have a small amount of food, and then sleeping again. He knows Phil and Techno are worried from the number of times one or both has been by his bed when he wakes up, but he's too tired to fight the voices whispering that he doesn't deserve their worry, doesn't deserve to be here in his childhood home with a family that loves him. So he does the next best thing and stays asleep as much as possible.

A week or so into this cycle, Techno starts trying to coax him to come downstairs for a little while when he wakes up. He refuses the first few times, but eventually gives in and spends that afternoon curled on the couch, tired eyes watching Phil and Techno converse. They try to include him in conversation, but his mostly one-word answers don't make it easy.

Phil is the one who convinces him to come down the next day, telling Wilbur there's something he should come see. Wilbur almost listens to the suspicion in his gut, but eventually decides there are worse ways to die than at the hands of your family. Even when his paranoia acts up he can tell that they do love him, as awful as he is, so he figures they'll at least make it quick.

He stops in his tracks when he gets downstairs and sees the guitar on the table. He hasn't played in a long time, hasn't had the heart or the energy to create anything for even longer. But he sees the hopeful way Phil looks at him, and he reluctantly crosses the room to examine the guitar.

It looks similar to the one he used to own. He briefly wonders what became of it- was it left in Manburg when he and Tommy fled? Did Tubbo bring it to Pogtopia, is it still there gathering dust? Maybe Tommy has it. He doesn't know, he can't remember and he doesn't have the energy to care.

He reaches out and brushes it lightly with shaking fingers, and to his surprise he can feel tears welling up. He didn't think he had enough of anything left in him to cry, but the guitar is just too familiar- it reminds him of Phil giving him his first guitar, a bit scuffed but still in decent condition, and teaching himself to play from worn instruction manuals. He remembers writing his first song and how anxious he'd been to perform it for his family, the warmth he'd felt when they applauded. He remembers when he left home, guitar over his shoulder and a spring in his step, unable to keep the grin off his face.

He remembers a city, remembers starting an illegal potions business, remembers playing silly songs for his friends with lyrics consisting entirely of lies about whales. He remembers going their separate ways with promises to meet again, whenever fate decrees, and remembers the glow in his heart at the laughter caused by his dramatic proclamation.

He remembers being alone suspended over a void, and how he had no guitar but he sang softly to his only real companion, a fish on whom he projected all of his love for the family and friends he didn't know if he'd see ever again. He sent New Milo off into the ocean when they escaped with a bittersweet song of freedom, eventually turning and leaving with the guitar the sky gods had enough pity to leave where he could find it.

He remembers starting a country- just him, his guitar, and Pee Dog. He remembers that he played for the Cumin Squad sometimes, but as the Antarctic Empire encroached he played less and less, eventually setting music aside entirely.

It was months after the Empire before he so much as touched his guitar again, relearning the strings a slow process but he managed. He played as he wandered, and he remembers charming a siren with his songs, a brief romance blooming between them.

He remembers that he nearly stopped playing when she left, but his son didn't sleep unless Wilbur sang to him, and there was nothing he wouldn't do for his son. He remembers playing for Fundy as he grew, and how he rewrote the songs with his son in them once Fundy came out to him as a boy. He remembers visiting Phil, and how much his father had smiled when Wilbur played and toddler Fundy danced.

He remembers singing along to the radio as in the van as he and Fundy traveled to where Tommy lived on the SMP, Fundy joining him on songs he recognized. He remembers how he played for Tommy and his friends, quickly growing fond of Tubbo and other residents.

He remembers how he played for the revolutionaries, how he'd raise their spirits and inspire them to keep fighting. He remembers sitting around fires with people he knew he would do anything for, strumming his guitar as eager voices joined his, floating over the walls surrounding them.

He remembers having less and less time to play music as president, trying frantically to be a good leader to people increasingly reluctant to listen to him. He remembers the way his guitar gathered dust in the corner of his room until he shoved it in a closet, unable to bear the reminder of days long past, days when he trusted the people around him and had nothing more to worry about than making sure his son was alright.

His memory gets a bit fuzzy for most of the ravine, but he thinks he remembers once trying to play and giving up, throwing the guitar because his hands shook too much to make anything other than discordant noise. He'd cried then, and when he was calmer he'd laughed without humor and considered it representative of his own personal failure at life.

He hasn't touched a guitar since, and as he's flooded by memories both good and bad he does the only thing he can think of. He turns tail and bolts, sliding to the floor of his room with his back pressed to his closed door as he fights back the waves of emotion threatening to drag him under and drown him.

He doesn't leave his room for nearly three days after that no matter how his family asks, and when he finally does emerge the guitar is nowhere to be seen, presumably stashed somewhere Wilbur won't find it.

A few days later Techno sits next to him where he's curled on the couch wrapped in a blanket, and tells him that there's a meteor shower that night and they should have a good view from the yard. He asks if Wilbur wants to watch it with him, and Wilbur nearly says _sorry, maybe next time_ but he hadn't realized until just now how much he misses the stars. Pogtopia was underground, and it wasn't safe to venture out at night. Not that that stopped Wilbur, who near the end could only find peace on the cliff, with stars overhead. So he agrees, and Techno's answering smile is enough to make him sure of his choice.

They sit on the porch steps together, settling into familiar positions. Wilbur eventually leans his head on Techno's shoulder, an arm coming up to rest around his shoulders in return. They sit in content silence for what could have been minutes or hours, Wilbur eventually drifting off on his brother. He's vaguely aware of a familiar heavy fabric being draped over him, and then he's asleep and knows no more.

And if Wilbur dreams that his sleeping, breathing, _living_ body is held close as tears fall on his brown curls, he doesn't say anything about it to a suspiciously red-eyed Technoblade in the morning.

About a month after coming home he gets in a fight with his brother, shouting that he wishes Techno hadn't shown up at all and had just let him fall. Techno leaves the room at this, shoulders stiff, and Wilbur pushes down the guilt and locks his door, refusing to answer when Phil knocks a little later.

He goes downstairs in the middle of the night knowing Phil will be asleep but Techno won't, and finds his brother seated on the couch with his head in his hands. They don't speak to each other as Wilbur moves past him to the kitchen, making hot chocolate and offering some to his brother in silent apology.

They sit together on the couch, eventually curling around each other and trading whispered confessions. Techno admits how terrified he was on the cliff, how he still has nightmares of getting there too late and finding a broken body at the bottom. Wilbur admits to the chasm in his chest, how empty he feels of purpose and meaning. He insists that his spiral really started during the revolution, that his brother isn't to blame for not seeing signs Wilbur had long since grown used to hiding, and in return Techno quietly promises that even if Wilbur never finds purpose again, he will always have meaning.

Phil finds them there the next morning, sleeping wrapped around each other so closely it's hard to tell where one ends and the other begins, and his small smile is relieved and impossibly fond.

Late-night talks become a habit for the pair, similar to when they were in the Nether or new to the Overworld. By unspoken agreement, both of them are as honest as they can bear to be under the stars, no matter the faces they wear in the daytime. It helps both of them, Wilbur thinks sometimes, to bring their relationship back to the level of trust they had as piglets who only had each other.

~

_Hey Big Man,_

_Things in L'Manberg are Going Fine! There's a lot of damage from the fighting, but nothing that can't be fixed! Tubbo's been working on some Very Cool builds that you've got to see when you get back, but don't tell him I said they were cool. If he asks, they're quite Shit._

_Dream came round once, probably for some Shady Shit, and then Niki invited him to a meeting with her and Quackity. I dunno what she said to him but he hasn't come near L'Manberg since, and I've never seen Big Q look so Scared and Impressed at the same time. I wasn't too sure about putting them in charge at first, but they're doing Quite an Okay job as co-presidents._

_There's a new person moved in, I think she's a pirate. Her name is Captain Puffy, and she spends a lot of time making Romance Eyes at Niki. It is Very Gross except not because I Support women doing Whatever they want to do! Women are very Good and Cool. I get very many Women because I am Also very Good and Cool._

_I hope you're feeling better. I am Not worried because I am Far Too Cool and Epic to worry about anything, but it would be very Pog if you wrote back and let me know if you're okay._

_I have Not been stealing things even though I Could because Niki is very_ ~~_Scary_ ~~ _Convincing. Fundy asked about rebuilding the camarvan, but I thought we should wait until you get back. He's Fine, by the way! He asks about you sometimes, and I tell him I Haven't Heard anything. I think he is planning to introduce Capitalism to the server, but it is hard to tell sometimes he is Not very Specific._

_I'll write to you Again, so don't feel pressured to respond even though That would be Good._

_I hope you're okay._

_\- Tommy Careful Danger Kraken Innit-Minecraft_

~

Wilbur can't write back after receiving the first letter. He's glad to hear everyone is okay, of course he is, but the one time he sits down and tries to draft a response his mind goes blank and he ends up throwing his quill in frustration. He doesn't try again. He doesn't even know what he'd say.

He tells Techno about New Milo, eventually. He doesn't- can't- bring himself to talk about the sky gods, so he just talks about his fish friend without mentioning their circumstances. He's sure Techno can tell that there's more he isn't saying, but he doesn't press and Wilbur is grateful.

He tells his brother about how New Milo was there when he had no one, and how when it was time for them to part ways he tugged on the fabric of reality the way Phil had taught them and created a small world just for New Milo.

Techno listens and quietly offers for them to go visit the world at some point. Wilbur hesitates and then shrugs a shoulder. He misses New Milo and of course he'd love to see him, but... for some reason, he feels like it would make everything too real- how much he's changed, and not for the better. He's far from the person he was when he and New Milo said their goodbyes, and some part of him is afraid to confront that.

He knows his brother understands, because he just nods and doesn't bring it up again. What he does do, though, is ask Wilbur about an emotional support animal. Wilbur shrugs awkwardly, but he's considering the idea and Techno waits in patient silence while he thinks. _He'd be open to the possibility_ , he says, and that's that until Phil is knocking on his door and asking if it's a good day for him to come with them and meet some animals.

It's not really a good day, but it's not one of the bad ones either so Wilbur says yes. He doesn't think anything will come of it until he's in the room with a few different animals, mostly different kinds of cats and dogs, and there's a large black and white dog that comes up to him, watching him with curious eyes and a wagging tail.

The woman showing them around tells Wilbur when he asks that the dog's name is Tornado, and she's a Newfoundland. Wilbur has to suppress a strangled laugh at that. Of course the dog that approaches him has the same name as the country he used to lead years ago, long before L'Manberg.

He sits with Tornado a while anyway, burying his hands in her fur while she lays half on top of him, and he feels calmer than he has in... longer than he can remember, really. It's not too surprising, in the end, that when they leave Tornado comes with them.

The next time he detaches from his body, he's brought back to awareness gradually by a furry weight on his chest and a slobbery tongue licking the side of his face. When he's able to control his limbs again he brings a hand up to run clumsily through Tornado's fur, the texture and repetitive movement calming him.

~

_Hey Big Man,_

_Haven't heard from you, so I hope you're Doing Okay. Not a lot has been happening here- it's pretty Peaceful and Boring, just how you like it!_

_There's a new kid here, an enderman hybrid named Ranboo. He's not very Cool because he is both older and taller than me, which is Disrespectful And Unfair! He's okay though I guess, was down to help me and Tubbo grief George's dumb fuckin Mushroom House._

_I can Hear the face you're making from here. No, I did Not destroy it even though it is Kind Of Stupid. I wanted to steal some shit, but Tubbo suggested we put up a bunch of signs calling him Dumb Names instead, and because I am a Very Mature Adult I immediately put one right in front calling him a Pussy (Because He Is)._

_You shoulda seen how many fuckin Signs we put up, you would've laughed So Hard! Almost everywhere there was space we put up a sign, and we only stopped because George came back and Nearly Caught Us! He Did Not, though, because I am an Incredibly Powerful and Stealthy Man. Ranboo and Tubbo are okay I guess, but between us three I am Definitely the strong link._

_Dream hasn't Tried Anything recently, I think because my existence is Incredibly Intimidating to him, but he's probably scheming somewhere. Don't Worry though, he's a Little Bitch and we both know I Can and Will fuck him up._

_Hope you're alright, big man. We all miss you a lot._

_\- Tommy Careful Danger Kraken Innit-Minecraft_

~

Wilbur sits at his desk, Tornado leaning against him with her head on his thigh. One hand buried in her fur, he scratches out a response in fits and starts to the letter he'd received from Tommy just over a week ago.

~

_Tommy,_

~~_I'm fine, don't worry about_ ~~

~~_I'm so sorry for_ ~~

~~_How is everyone doing_ ~~

~~_Why are you writing me I don't deserve_ ~~

_It's good that you're making friends. Ranboo sounds like a nice kid._

_I have a dog now. She's a Newfoundland, and her name is Tornado. No, I didn't pick it. You'd like her, I think._

_Be careful of Dream. He's already_ ~~_killed you twice_~~ _proven himself a dangerous enemy, and I doubt he's happy right now. He might be the only person who wanted Manburg to explode more than me._ ~~_He could have spies anywhere, don't trust anyone Tommy watch your back anyone could be on his side even your friends especially your friends don't trust anyone_ ~~

_Sorry. I'm... working on that. Just be careful, Tommy. Please._

_\- Wilbur_

~

He doesn't let anyone near him the rest of the day after his paranoia flares, although he is able to be in the same room as Phil for a brief period of time with Tornado staying firmly between them. She likes Phil, Wilbur knows, but she senses Wilbur's unease and keeps herself as a physical barrier anyway. Another day when Wilbur mentions it to Techno, his brother explains that some kinds of dogs will have a specific person they bond with more than the others around them, and that Tornado's natural inclination to bond with and protect him would only be strengthened by her training. Wilbur does not cry upon the discovery that his dog simply cares about him more than anyone else, and if Techno says otherwise he is a complete and blatant liar.

He starts to leave the house more to take Tornado on walks, usually staying within earshot. She needs more exercise than he can give her, with how weak he is in the early days, but Techno and Phil take turns picking up his slack until he can manage it alone. If that isn't a metaphor for his life, he thinks once with grim amusement. Wilbur fucks things up, and someone else has to pick up after him and set things right again. Still, some nights when his skin is too tight and the air gets trapped in his lungs, it's nice to simply walk in the chilled air, alone with his dog and his thoughts.

He sleeps more, too, with Tornado laying over his feet or on his chest as a living weighted blanket. With the increase in sleep comes an increase in nightmares. There’s a reason he rarely let himself sleep in Pogtopia, he recalls wryly. In the ravine he couldn’t go a single night without terrifying visions winding through his mind and stealing any rest he could have gotten from sleeping. He forced himself to stay awake longer and longer to avoid them, and it became second nature until he would be awake for days before randomly collapsing.

It got hard to tell which dreams were real and which weren’t, closer to the end. At first he’d dream of the war, Eret’s betrayal, Schlatt’s betrayal, Fundy tearing down the walls and disowning him, being shot and killed as he and Tommy fled after being exiled. Later they began to twist, until Schlatt’s cold laughter filled the air as a button was pressed in a dark room, until it was Tommy on his last life who was shot as they ran, until he felt the arrow pierce his chest and looked back to see his son holding the crossbow.

His dreams are different, now. Sometimes the old ones will reappear, but mostly when he closes his eyes at night he becomes the villain. He leads his friends down a tunnel and mockingly salutes as hidden doors open. He faces away from Tommy as Dream counts down from ten, and when his little brother turns around he’s already fired. He stands laughing at a podium and declares himself emperor, staring at Tommy’s horrified face as he sends him running. He’s the one holding the crossbow as blood is shed on Election Night.

The worst nights are when he presses the button. He watches indifferently as Tommy begs him to wait, to not do this there’s still hope- and when Tommy steps aside and declares that he’s not leaving to get to a safe distance, that he trusts Wilbur to do the right thing, Wilbur just turns and his fingers hit wood. He survives the explosions every time. He put TNT in the room to avoid that exact scenario, and yet even when he stands closer than the others he always escapes unscathed. He looks out over the wreckage of the home he built, standing over the bodies of his brother and Quackity, and he doesn’t care. He’s just empty.

He barely functions on the days after the button room dreams, stays in his room and doesn’t speak as guilt chokes him. It’s just a dream, he knows it is, but.. it nearly wasn’t. He knows himself, is intimately familiar with his own flaws, and he’s fully aware how close he was to pressing the button even with his little brother in the room he’d designed to be his grave. The guilt drowns him, and he doesn’t try to fight it. It’s what he deserves, isn’t it? L’Manberg led to so many conflicts and he was the one who made it. He led his brother and pseudo brother into conflict, he failed his own son so badly that he turned his back on him- and really, Wilbur can’t blame him. He wouldn’t want to be connected to himself either.

Some days are just bad. Tornado often sits with him when he can't get out of bed, and will tug on his sleeve gently with teeth and whine when he still hasn't eaten or drank anything by noon. Sometimes he listens to her and forces himself up, sometimes he just turns away and she goes to get Techno or Phil to bring him some water at least.

The worst days hit hard, days when Wilbur can't do anything but he can't stay still either, and ends up fidgety, exhausted, and frustrated. He takes Tornado outside some of these days, just nodding when Phil reminds him to be careful of mobs because it's getting near dark.

Tonight he goes to the forest anyway, Tornado trotting curiously beside him, and when he reaches the edge of the torches, just barely in earshot of the house, he doesn't stop like he normally would. It isn't a conscious decision, at first. He just notices the change somewhere in the back of his mind and keeps walking, Distantly, part of him wonders if there are any large heights nearby. Probably, right? He grew up here, but his mind is fuzzy and he can't remember exactly.

He doesn't stop walking even when the sound of mobs reaches his ears, even when Tornado grips his sleeve in her teeth and tugs toward the direction of the house, even when she woofs to get his attention and lead him back. He stops walking when he hears the sound of zombies directly ahead of him, distantly noticing the way Tornado takes a protective stance in front of him and growls. Somewhere, he's considering. It's not the death he wanted, the poetry he tried to write in his own blood- Icarus isn't falling, having come so close to everything he wanted only to have it all snatched away, but Wilbur thinks in the end the method might not matter much. After all, it really doesn't change the result in a way he'll be around to see.

He brought a sword at Phil's insistence, but he's never had any intention of using it to defend himself. But- he looks at Tornado near his feet, and a pang of grief hits him. She'll fight anything to keep him safe, he knows, and he can't let her die for him. He's caused enough hurt already. He crouches, getting her attention by stroking her head.

"Go home," He instructs, smiling sadly at the way she balks at the command. She won't leave him, he knows, unless... "Get help. Okay? Go home, Tornado, and get help."

That's a somewhat more reasonable command, and she hesitates before huffing and shoving him toward a tree, her intentions clear. _Climb the tree and wait for help._ He scratches behind her ears and nods, smiling. "Okay. Good girl, Tornado. I'll wait right here, okay? Go home." He feels a little bad about lying, but it's hard to pay attention to anything other than the overwhelming guilt in his lungs and white noise in his mind as she licks his hand and takes off for the house, already barking. It's unfortunate, he thinks, but reasonable. He won't drag anyone else down with him. He just hopes the mobs will be quicker than his family.

With those thoughts in mind, Wilbur rises from his crouch and strides in the direction of the zombies, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He knows it's going to hurt, but the closer he gets to sweet oblivion the less he finds himself capable of caring.

He punches the first zombie he reaches- not hard, but enough to make it angry- and keeps walking, offering an exposed back. He gasps a little and his hands clench in his coat pockets as a slash of white-hot pain erupts between his shoulder blades, sending him stumbling a step forward. It's barely moments before the next attack hits along his arm, and at some point between the blinding flashes of pain he thinks he falls to his knees, bracing himself with a shaking, bloody arm. He can see the mobs swirling around him, although how much of that is real and how much is blood loss he supposes he'll never know.

And then he distantly hears barking, and the sounds of shouts and fighting, and all he can think is _damn it, why couldn't you have been a little slower_ before he's slumping and being caught by warm arms. He blinks up at a blurry green figure, and for a moment he hopes it's a mob coming to finish him off. Then his eyes focus briefly and he sees Phil's terrified face looking down at him, saying something Wilbur doesn't catch.

"Oh," Wilbur mumbles weakly in response. "Damn it."

Then his vision goes dark, and the last thing he hears is a frantic shout of his name before the world cuts out.

~

_Hey Big Man,_

_It's Good to hear from you! Now I can tell people you're Okay when they ask. They ask about you a Lot, you know. Don't feel pressured to come back before you're Ready, but everyone Really Misses you. A couple people asked me to send letters from them Also, and I told them I would as long as they weren't Upsetting or Rude._

_Everything with Dream really is Going Fine, though! Try not to Worry too much, if you can. I'm being Careful, Honest!_

_...Tubbo says to tell you that He's the one in charge of making sure I'm Careful, and I Very Much Resent what that Implies. He's making me say it anyway, though. Dickhead._

_Something Weird happened recently, though. Remember Karl Jacobs? Tried to join L'Manberg during the revolution but we didn't let him cause he's American? He's been acting kinda Funny. The other day he was walking around all confused and it was like he didn't Recognize me for a few minutes even after I Said Hello. Ranboo has Memory Problems too, is it going around like some kind of fuckin plague?? Next thing you know, Dream'll forget whatever's got up His ass and made him So Cranky. Wouldn't That be the day, hah!_

_Your dog sounds really cool! I am a Big Fan of dogs, as they are Man's Best Friend and I am the Biggest Man. Don't worry, if Sapnap tries anything when you get back I will Personally Destroy him._

_Gotta Go, but I'll write again Soon. Hope you keep doing well, big man!_

_\- Tommy Careful Danger Kraken Innit-Minecraft_

~

_Dear Wilbur,_

_Hello! It's good to hear you're doing okay. Tommy read me the part of your last letter about the dog. Tornado is a very cool name!_

_Niki is double-checking my spelling. Tommy offered, but he doesn't have quite as much attention to detail as she does. It was nice of him to ask, though. :-]_

_Reconstruction is going well! Eret is starting a museum, and I've been helping her with it when I have free time. I know you don't like them, and that's okay. You don't have to, but I do think he really is sorry. Dream tried to make them king again, and she reformed the SMP government so that Dream doesn't have such tight control over it and then gave the throne to Captain Puffy._

_The podium has been taken down. Too many bad memories for everyone, I think. I've been talking with Niki and Big Q about starting a community garden where it used to be, and they like the idea so far. I know you probably won't be back for a while, but everyone's getting a section to grow whatever they want. I can leave yours empty for now, or if there's something you'd like me to plant and look after for you til you get back just let me know!_

_I miss you, but I'm glad you're taking time for yourself to heal, even if it means you're gone for a while. I know the others feel the same way, too, so please take as long as you need. And.. if you end up not wanting to come back, that's okay too. You've sacrificed so much for all of us, I think.. I think you deserve to be happy, whether you come back to L'Manberg or not._

_Take care of yourself, and say hello to Tornado for me. :-]_

_\- Tubbo_

~

_Wil,_

_I know you didn't think L'Manberg could come back. It was tainted by Schlatt and violence, and I know you believed your dream was dead._

_Oh, but Wil, it's so alive._

_There's no more war. We're signing treaties with the greater SMP and the Badlands, fair ones. Big Q is working on establishing trade agreements and getting an economy started, and Puffy- do you know of Puffy? She's new, and she's the new king of the greater SMP- Puffy proposed to me, and I said yes. Our countries will be like siblings now, isn't it wonderful?_

_I wish you were here to usher in this new era of peace with us, but I'm glad you're taking time to heal. Just remember that no matter what you choose to do from here, there will always be a place for you in L'Manberg. It's your nation just as much as it is ours._

_Tubbo wants to tell you about the community garden, but he probably won't mention all of his incredible builds. He's made a beehive with a garden inside, it's very peaceful. Next date with Puffy, I'm planning to have a picnic there._

_I think you and Puffy would get along. She's planning to open a therapy office, once she's settled into ruling and has more free time. I don't want to assume anything, but if that's something you think might help you I'm sure she'd be happy to talk with you._

_I'd love to hear from you, but please don't feel pressured to write back. Just hearing you're okay from Tommy is enough._

_Love, Niki_

~

_Wilbur,_

_I won't pretend to know exactly what's happening with you. Honestly, from this point on I have almost no idea what will happen._

_We've never been close, really, so you're probably surprised to hear from me. I'll keep this short, don't worry._

_Things are going to be okay. I know, I know, that's cliche, and how can I be sure, and how would I know what you're going through anyway._

_Our circumstances are different, but I know the feelings you're feeling better than someone who's never felt them could and it's going to be okay._ _You're going to be okay._ _You have people around you, people that love you and want to be there for you. All I ask is that you let them._

_They care. You might not understand how or why, but they care about you so much. It's a lot sometimes, right? It can get overwhelming, and that's okay too._

_I've seen death. Trust me just this once, okay? It's worth it to stick around, I swear it to you._

_I fought, so hard and for so long, and I thought what I was reaching for was impossible. That it could never be real. Sounds familiar, huh?_

_But Wilbur, I reached it. I had to let my friends steady my ladder, but I made it to the top and reached my goal. You can too, if you let them help. It may be out of reach right now, but we have ladders for a reason. Just hold on long enough to see the view from the top, because it is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen._

_I achieved my purpose and was left without another, but that's okay because I'm learning to just_ _live_ _. Learn that lesson too, Wilbur, and you'll be alright. I swear it._

_If you need to talk to someone who gets it, my communicator is always on. No matter what, I wish you well._

_You have a second chance at living, Wilbur. For your sake, and the sake of the people who love you, don’t give up on it._

_\- Karl Jacobs_

~

_Dad,_

_I hope you're okay._

_I don't know exactly what happened, but I heard a bit from Tommy and I can put the general idea together._

_I know I said- some things. To Schlatt. I know it hurt you, and I'm sorry. You're still- no matter what, you're still my dad._

_You have problems, I'm not gonna pretend otherwise. You weren't always there for me when I needed you, but.. I know you tried._

_Do you remember when we were on our way to the SMP? We were in the van, it was sunny, and you had the radio turned up but your singing was even louder. It's one of my favorite memories._

_Things were good, back then. For you, and between us. I think they can be good again. I want them to be good again, and I'm willing to try if you want that too._

_I know it's selfish, but I have to ask you for something. Don't leave me, please? Don't go somewhere I can't find you. I still need you. You're not the best dad sometimes, but you're the only one I've got. I need you._

_I've been doing a lot of construction. When you come back, I'll give you a tour of the ice cream shop. Me and Ranboo are building it together, and we are definitely gonna beat Niki and Puffy's flower shop._

_I miss you. Take care of yourself, okay? I love you, dad._

_\- Fundy_

~

Wilbur opens his eyes to soft whines and a wet nose nudging his hand. He doesn't try to sit up, taking stock of the way his body aches and the bandages he can feel wrapped around him. The nose's owner can tell he's awake, though, and he hears a jingling collar growing more distant and then returning with hurried but hushed footsteps accompanying it.

He blinks and his father is right there, eyes red-rimmed and hands trembling as he carefully helps Wilbur to a sitting position. He doesn't seem able to speak for a minute, hands gently cupping Wilbur's face as he searches for something, and Wilbur doesn't know if Phil finds what he's looking for or not because the next thing he knows he's being gathered in his father's arms and held as tightly as Phil dares with his injuries as large wings that have always meant safety enfold him.

Behind Phil, Wilbur catches a glimpse of his brother and guilt settles heavy in his chest at Techno's disheveled state, face blank to try and hide the way his breathing shakes and the redness of his eyes. Everything hits him at once when his brother meets his eyes and he breaks, clinging desperately to Phil and beginning to sob into his shoulder, gasping apologies like prayers to the gods he had long ago ceased to worship.

Phil rocks back and forth gently, holding Wilbur close and carding his fingers through brown hair. He retracts a wing, and Wilbur curls closer at the loss of touch until he feels a second weight settle on the bed and his brother's arms are around him. He clings to his father and brother, and painful truths spill over as they sit there for longer than Wilbur can keep track of. He admits to blaming himself for everything that had happened in or because of L'Manberg and both rebellions, admits to the pressure he put himself under to lead and how it only led to more pain for everyone, admits how just being alive weighs on him some days, strangling his voice and stealing his ability to breathe.

They let him speak for as long as he needs to, though he's not oblivious enough to be completely unaware of the grieved expressions they share.

Things don't get better right away, and not for a long time. The three of them make an effort to spend more time together, playing card games or just sitting in each others’ company.

During one of these quiet nights, Wilbur tells them the truth of the two years between leaving the city and when he reappeared during the Antarctic Empire's reign. He tells them about the sky gods, and Phil's face turns pained as soon as he hears the name. He's familiar with many legends, more so than Wilbur ever cared to be. Techno doesn't betray much with his expression, but Wilbur can see the tightness of his jaw and the tension around his eyes, and he knows the voices are screaming for revenge. He tries to focus on the positive parts of the story after that, as few and small as they are, and it helps calm the storm in his brother's head but now he and Phil just look sadder.

"Around then was when it started," He breathes, voice barely audible. "I was alone for.. most of that time, and I just- I didn't see a way out." He swallows, staring at his hands to avoid seeing the raw pain on his family's faces. "I tried to- I tried. After- back then. I tried, but they- the sky gods wouldn't let me. I was.. too fun, I guess." His face twists as he says _fun_ , his distaste obvious.

Techno's fist clenches, and Wilbur knows he's itching for a weapon. But this isn't a problem he can fight with an axe or trident, not when it's Wilbur's own mind working against him. So he does the next best thing and moves to where Wilbur sits, folding his younger brother into a tight hold.

"They won't get you again," He promises quietly. If he has to hunt down each and every sky god and dye the sky red to get them to leave his brother alone, he will. He's called a god sometimes, and though he's not arrogant enough to believe it true in the literal sense, he knows it's a title he's earned nonetheless. He spares a moment to send a thought to the sky gods- more feeling than words, a warning to never again touch what is his.

This time, when an offer is made to visit New Milo, Wilbur agrees. It takes a few days for him to feel mildly ready, but when he is he takes the water-breathing potions, standing with his father and brother and reaching out to _tug_ in a way he knows almost as well as he knows how to breathe. Phil taught them all how, when they were younger. Techno never really cared for it, but Tommy and especially Wilbur were always captivated by the way the universe could be shaped to their will. It was easiest for Tommy when he talked- to them, to himself, to whoever he pretended was listening. Wilbur found it easiest when he sang. Phil always viewed it as strings to pull, Tommy as energy to shape, and Wilbur as a symphony to dance within.

He doesn't sing now. He's not sure anything would come out if he tried. It's easier with song, but not impossible without. He knows the others notice, but they say nothing. He's glad; if they had commented he thinks he might have lost his nerve and called off the whole thing.

He steps through the gap between strings that he's widened, his family behind him, and finds himself floating in a familiar ocean. He swims forward, looking around, and then his eyes widen and a smile breaks out across his face as he spots a familiar shape darting toward him. He holds out his hands, palms up, and New Milo bumps his cheek before swimming back down to brush against his fingers.

If Wilbur weren't underwater, he wonders if he might cry again. The easy, immediate acceptance from New Milo, as if he were still the same Wilbur who had welcomed New Milo into a hellish existence and then done everything he could to make it just a bit better for his fish friend.

As if he somehow still deserves New Milo's affection. As if he’s anything more than a shell of a person, following established habits because there’s nothing else left of him.

New Milo seems to sense the path his thoughts are taking like he always had when they were in the sky, and wriggles up to bump against Wilbur’s forehead, pulling him out of his self-deprecating thoughts. _Stop that,_ he seems to scold Wilbur. _You’re here. I’m here. That’s what’s important._

 _That’s what’s important,_ Wilbur echoes silently. _You’re here. I’m here. That’s... important._

For the first time in months or even years, he thinks maybe he could try to believe it.

~

_Tommy,_

_Thank you for writing. It’s good to hear from you._

_It’s good that Tubbo will be keeping an eye on you. I can picture the face you’re making right now. Don’t, you know I’m right. Just do your best to keep him in check as well, gods know L’Manberg doesn’t need more arson or whatever Big Crime is up to these days._

_You know me, I always worry. Just be careful. I’m being serious, Tommy. Dream isn’t someone you want to be on the bad side of, and at this point I’d be shocked if he ever took L’Manberg off that list._

_I think Tornado would like you. She has a lot of energy, you could probably walk with us._ ~~_If_~~ _When I get back, I’ll introduce you. Just take things slow at first, she’s very protective and doesn’t trust strangers._

_If there is some kind of memory plague, try not to catch it. You’re still a child, there aren’t very many years of memory for you to forget, so who knows how much you’ll lose?_

_Take care of yourself, Tommy._

_\- Wilbur_

~

_Tubbo,_

_It’s good to hear things are going well. Are you alright? You didn’t mention. Don’t take too much on your shoulders. You don’t have to do things alone anymore._

_I think a community garden is a lovely idea. If you want to save an area for me, you can. Just.. don’t feel pressured about it. Niki mentioned your beehive. It sounds nice. Tommy said you’ve been making a lot of cool builds, but if he asks tell him I said he said they were “quite shit”._

_I think I’d like to visit Eret’s museum at some point. I don’t.. I’ll be honest, Tubbo, I don’t know if I can forgive them. We were friends, brothers in arms, and he.. he betrayed us in the worst way. But. I.. can understand seeking redemption. I think it would be good for both of us to talk. Not now, but.. when I’m back. When I’m doing better. She helped us take L’Manberg back, and that doesn’t count for nothing. I think.. I think when I come back I might be ready to hear what she has to say._

_That’s kind of you to say, Tubbo, but I haven’t sacrificed more than anyone else._

_I’ll try. You look after yourself too._

_\- Wilbur_

~

_Niki,_

_That sounds wonderful. I knew you and Big Q would be excellent leaders, and you’re proving it already. I’m so glad you’ll have peace. You deserve it, Niki._

_Congratulations! That’s incredible news, I’m so happy for the two of you. I’d offer to threaten her for you, but I figure if she does anything to hurt you you’ll be more than able to handle it yourself. Still, the offer’s always open._

_I know it’s not something I should be focusing on, but I’m worried about what’s happening with Dream. He was my most supportive ally in blowing up Manburg, and I can’t imagine him sitting idly while L’Manberg rebuilds- treaty or no. I know I’m not a leader, but I’d offer some advice anyway. Take it or don’t, the decision is up to you._

_Be careful of Dream. He has strings within strings, and if he finds something you care about he won’t hesitate to use it against you. Just.. don’t let your guard down around him. I know this probably just sounds like more paranoia, but be careful, alright? If L’Manberg really can come back.. I don’t know. But I also don’t want anything to happen to it until I can find out for myself._

_I’m not sure about therapy, but I would like to meet Puffy sometime. She must be quite something if you’re going to marry her. Write and let me know when the wedding will be, and I’ll try and send a gift._

_It’s good to hear from you._

_\- Wil_

~

_Karl,_

_I’ll be honest, I don’t understand a lot of what you’re referring to. But.. I think I get the gist._

_What were you reaching for? You know my answer, so what’s yours? What did you pursue even when it was impossible? You said you reached it. What did you reach, Karl?_

_I’m really not sure what you mean about seeing death, but I’ll.. take it into consideration. The rest, too._

_You’re a strange man, Karl Jacobs. But I suppose you aren’t necessarily wrong._

_I’ll.. try._

_\- Wilbur Soot_

~

 ~~_Son_ ~~ _Fundy,_

_It’s good to hear from you. I miss you too._

_None of what happened is your fault. That was something that had been building for a long time, Fundy, and you aren’t to blame for it. Your actions... didn’t help, no, but you didn’t know. Even if you had, I’m not your responsibility. You made the choices that were best for you, and I’m proud of you for that._

_I don’t think I say that often enough, but I am. I always have been, but I think I might be shit at showing it, and I’m sorry for that._

_I want to do better. For you, and by you. We have a second chance, I think, and I don’t want to waste it._

_When I get back.. if it’s something you want, we can talk about Sally. She’d be so proud of the man you’ve become if she could see you now, I know it. I know I haven’t answered your questions because it hurts to remember her, but she’s your mother and you deserve answers._

_I have to ask one thing from you, though, much as I hate to. You’re not a child anymore, I’ll try not to pretend about this. You deserve honesty from me._

_I’m not alright, Fundy. I think I haven’t been for a very long time. And I’m trying to get better, but it’s going to take time. And the way I am now, I can’t be the father you deserve. So.. even though it’s selfish, I’m going to ask you to wait for me, if you’re willing. I’ll come back when I can, and we can work things out._

_I’d love to see your ice cream shop. If you’re the one building it, I’m sure it’ll be magnificent._

_I love you, son._

_\- Wilbur_

~

They don’t bring New Milo back with them, but after the visit there’s a portal near their house that leads to the underwater realm. A chest next to the portal holds potions of water breathing, and while Wilbur isn’t allowed to go alone, he does visit his old friend sometimes.

He knows why he isn’t supposed to go to New Milo’s world alone, or to the Nether, or even too far from the house. It’s.. fair, actually, considering the last time he’d had that lack of supervision they had found him in a pool of his own blood.

He doesn’t know if that’s something he wants anymore. A week, two weeks ago he would have said yes. But now when white noise fills his head, he holds the letter from Fundy like a lifeline. In a way it is. It makes him feel worse, sometimes. The only thing his son asked of him was not to leave him, and yet he very nearly couldn’t even manage that much. The rest of the time it gives him something to cling to. He can’t leave his boy, his champion, can’t take away the only parent he has left.

He talks to Phil about it, once, one father to another. He knows Phil understands, as much as he can. He thinks he understands Phil, too, because he imagines finding Fundy the way Phil had found him and his reaction is so visceral he has to be alone the rest of the day.

A little while later he approaches his father with a tentative suggestion, and it’s already worth it to see how happy the idea makes Phil. They spend the afternoon making lanterns, and release them into the sky together when night falls.

As the lights bob and float above them, casting a gentle light, Wilbur finds he can breathe a little more easily. He leans on his father’s shoulder, gazing upwards, and tries to let himself just exist. He’s not sure if it works, but it isn’t bad. It’s actually rather nice, he finds, to just breathe without expectations of anything more. He thinks he might be starting to understand what Karl meant.

He starts spending time helping his brother farm, and the sun is often too bright but it’s worth it to see the softness in Techno’s eyes and to watch plants he helped grow thriving. It eases something in him, some desperate, instinctive need to create.

Once Techno catches him naming the potato plants and rolls his eyes, but the next week he’s presenting Wilbur with flower seeds. There’s a patch of land against the house already set up for a garden, and Wilbur has to blink back grateful tears as he touches his forehead to Techno’s in thanks and takes the seed packets.

He takes far more care of his little garden than he ever has of himself, and some tightly coiled spring within him begins to slowly loosen every time he checks on his little white and yellow flowers and sees them still standing- proof, at least for now, that he doesn’t ruin everything he touches. That the problem with L’Manberg wasn’t just that it had been him who created it. That he can still create something beautiful, something worthwhile, without his very existence corrupting it.

Techno asks him once if he still blames himself for everything bad that’s happened involving L’Manberg, and he just frowns.

“Why wouldn’t I? It’s true.”

Techno glances sidelong at him. “Not really. You’re not responsible for what other people do. Yeah, you started L’Manberg, but you didn’t make Dream declare war. That was a choice he made, and he’s the only one responsible for it.”

Wilbur hums noncommittally, searching his brother’s face. A few months ago, he wouldn’t have believed a word the other said on the subject. But now, somehow, part of him wants to.

“Maybe,” He allows eventually, and they drop it.

Eventually, Wilbur grows restless. He may not be related to Phil by blood, but he inherited his wanderlust all the same. In the same way he jumped from idea to idea, staying in one place for too long was never something he was comfortable with. At the same time, though, he knows he isn’t ready to return to L’Manberg. He isn’t completely sure he ever will be, but- well. That’s a problem for Future Wilbur to deal with.

He starts joining Phil on his trips to the nearby village, both to just be going _somewhere_ and to try to trick his brain into believing they aren’t staying in one place. It doesn’t fix it, not really, but it helps. The first time, he’s barely in the village for five minutes before he becomes overwhelmed by the noise and amount of people and has to leave. He tries again, though, with Tornado firmly at his side, and each time he visits he’s able to stay a little longer before being overwhelmed.

He tends to sit in the town square while Phil does whatever shopping brought them there, and listen to whoever might be playing music. The town has always had a thriving musical community, he remembers picking up an interest in singing here when he was a kid. They invite him to join them, sometimes, remembering his passion for music, but he always declines.

No one pushes. It’s been decades since war found its way to the sleepy town, but the people who live there still recognize the signs. So Wilbur sits and listens, and smiles when his old friends sit near him and show him their newest music. It’s difficult, sometimes, the reminder of who he used to be around them. He would lead them, often, improvise silly tunes and pass them around a circle of amateur musicians. He hasn’t led anyone in a while. He doesn’t think he wants to, ever again.

But he’s not the first person to go traveling and come back different, more worn, and his old friends carve a new space for him among them instead of expecting him to fit where he used to. They’ve changed, too, over the years Wilbur has been away, and he and his old friends relearn each other with the same steady patience he remembers.

He finds himself humming along, a few times, when they play songs he remembers well. It’s barely audible even to him, and if the others notice they don’t make a big deal of it. It’s nice, sitting in the sun with a group of people he cares for while music floats around them. He misses L’Manberg, he thinks unexpectedly. Not the way it was when he left, but the early days when it was five of them against the world outside their walls. When he didn’t feel the need to guard himself quite so closely, when he trusted everyone in their small group with his life. When war was still a game they played, when he could think of Eret without a sickening mix of fury and grief and fear filling his head.

He misses that L’Manberg, but he realizes with some surprise that he doesn’t want to go back. Not really. For all his flaws, for all the hurt he has caused and been caused by others, he wants to move forward. He wants to see the L’Manberg described to him in letters; with a rebuilt White House and a sprawling garden in the center, with docks and beehives built by a child as clever as he is kind, with people from everywhere coming together to create a future they can all reach.

That is the L’Manberg he wants to see, one that he believed was a lost cause and yet exists anyway. Maybe that is what L’Manberg was always meant to be, he thinks, and the thought fills him with such bittersweet nostalgia that for the first time in longer than he remembers his fingers itch for a quill.

He gets a journal next time he and Phil visit town, and pretends not to notice the soft expression on his father’s face when he carries it home. It sits untouched on his desk for days, but eventually Wilbur opens it and slowly, hesitantly, starts to write.

~

_Hey Big Man,_

_First off, I am NOT a FUCKING CHILD, you’re just Old and Weak compared to me and it makes you Jealous. And even if there is a memory plague, Old People Like You will be more likely to catch it anyway, probably! So if Anyone should be worried about amnesia, it’s not Me._

_I’m keeping Big Crime in check, don’t you Worry! He hasn’t been up to much, actually. It’s been Mostly Tubbo for a while now, actually._

_I don’t think you need to be Too Stressed, though, because Dream hasn’t been seen Anywhere for,, a Little While now. Dunno what he’s up to, but I’m sure it’s Nothing we can’t handle._

_Do you know when you’ll come back? Not that I want to Rush You, you could just Visit for a bit without staying if you Want._

_But Seriously though, how have you been? You don’t need to lie if you aren’t doing okay, you know. I’m not a Kid, you don’t have to protect me from your own fuckin emotions._

_Just be safe, okay? Miss you big man._

_\- Tommy Careful Danger Kraken Innit-Minecraft_

~

_Wilbur,_

_It’s good to hear from you! Don’t worry, I’m okay. Tommy is a bit of a mother hen sometimes, he yells at me if I work for too long without breaks._

_He’s doing well. Helping me with the community garden, has he mentioned? He complains a lot, but I can tell he enjoys it. Maybe you could join us when you get back? Gardening is actually surprisingly relaxing! Don’t worry about having an area in the garden, we already had one set aside for you. I just asked to be polite. :-]_

_I really think it would be good for both of you if you talked to Eret. She and I talk sometimes, when we’re working on the museum. They want to document the history of L’Manberg and the SMP, the accurate history. Schlatt tried to destroy it, but I got as many documents as I could out. He says I saved enough primary sources to be able to tell the real history of L’Manberg, which made me happy. I think it’ll make you happy, too, so I wanted to tell you right away! Schlatt’s narrative won’t be the one that survives, ours will._

_I mean, maybe, but that doesn’t mean your sacrifices don’t count. I’ve been talking with Puffy a lot, both me and Tommy have, and she says being hurt isn’t a competition. All of us can hurt different amounts, and it doesn’t make anyone’s hurting less important. I know you feel responsible for us because you led us during the revolution and after, but you don’t have to pretend not to be hurt anymore. Puffy wants me to stop doing that, so I think maybe you should too._

_I have to go, I’m meeting with Sam and Fundy to mess around with redstone today. Take care!_

_\- Tubbo_

~

_Wil,_

_Thank you! We’re doing our best, and it helps that the leaders of our neighboring countries don’t actively consider us enemies anymore._

_I don’t think threatening Puffy will be necessary, but I’ll keep your offer in mind. I can assure you, though, she’s far more worried about her hurting me than I am._

_It’s not exactly common knowledge, but I think it might help you to know what’s going on with Dream._

_It turns out he’s Puffy’s adopted son. I know, right? I was shocked when I found out. She told me that she came here originally to check on him, and she’s sent him to a desert somewhere to visit family. A brother, I think? She wasn’t too specific, but I’m sure I’ll find out who else I’m going to be the mother-in-law of eventually. She says he wasn’t doing well, so she insisted he take some time to himself to heal. Now that I write it out, it sounds remarkably similar to what you’re doing._

_It sounds like it’s been helping you, so I hope it helps him too. It would be so nice if we could all live together in peace, don’t you think?_

_Don’t worry about the wedding. It’s still barely reached the planning phase, and we’re in no rush. We have time. And… it would mean a lot to me if you were there for it. Not to stay necessarily, not if you don’t want, but at least to visit, if you’re up for it._

_It’s good to hear from you too. I miss you, and I’m glad you’re okay._

_Love, Niki_

~

_Wilbur,_

_Trying is all I ask._

_What a question. What didn’t I reach for? I sought knowledge, and then the power to change the things I learned, and then to stop losing myself along the way._

_But the most important thing I sought for, the thing I’ve achieved that matters... it’s peace, Wilbur. Peace, and hope. For you. For me. For all of us._

_I know you won’t understand what I mean. That’s okay. Some things aren’t meant to be understood, not really. Honk, dude, I forget it more days than not._

_It’s gonna be okay, man. One way or another, the universe will balance itself. It always does. You’ve suffered, so your suffering will ease. There’s always balance, Wilbur. If that helps you, remember it. If not, just forget it._

_There’s one thing I would ask you to remember, though. The universe is cold, and large, and empty, yes. It’s impersonal, and at some point we will all be forced to face our own insignificance in the incomprehensibly large tale that makes up our reality. But the universe is also kind. Remember that, if nothing else I’ve said. The universe is kind, and in one way or another it will be kind to you._

_..Sorry, I think I was trying to say something there, but I don’t remember what. Not too important, I guess!_

_Hah, you wouldn’t believe how many times I’ve heard almost that exactly. Guess I can’t argue, then._

_Take care, Wilbur. This isn’t only a second chance for you, I think. I’ll make sure to do the same._

_\- Karl Jacobs_

~

_Dad,_

_I.. would like that. To talk about Sally, I mean. And the other stuff, too. I miss you._

_I was promoted recently, to the cabinet. I’m in charge of resources now. Schlatt did a bit of a number on this place, but we’re working on it. Big Q and I have established trade agreements with Purpled. Remember those huge farms he built? He’s one of L’Manberg’s main trade partners and suppliers of food now._

_He’s a good co-president. He and Niki work well together, I think. L’Manberg is even more beautiful now._

_I.. understand that you’re struggling. Honestly, a lot of us are. But ‘deserve’ is bullshit. You either are my dad or you aren’t, and you are because you’re choosing to be. That’s what counts._

_I’ll give you a tour of the ice cream shop when you get back. No family discount, though._

_I love you._

_\- Fundy_

~

Wilbur doesn’t write music in his new journal. He’s not sure he’ll be able to for a long time. But he pours his tangled thoughts and messy emotions out onto the pages, and eventually finds himself able to sort them out bit by bit. It helps, to be able to detach himself and deal with his feelings more separately from him.

At once point, he finds a guitar laying out in the open in the house. It’s the same one as before, but it looks different, and with a start he realizes it’s been painted by a few different hands.

There’s the strong lines he recognizes from Phil’s lanterns, Techno’s elegant brushstrokes forming a crown, and even the L’Manberg flag in Tommy’s rushed style. He thinks he sees a cluster of bees along the neck of the guitar, and there’s a ring of flowers in the same careful hand as the pastries he used to sit and watch Niki make. A little fox smiles up at him when he turns the guitar over, and a small swirl of color that he doesn’t immediately recognize, but he can guess the artist from the letters he’s received. He sees a pair of yellow wings, a small flame, demon horns on a diamond in two different styles, familiar sunglasses in a corner with hesitant brushstrokes as if the artist wasn’t sure their contribution would be welcome. He sees a pirate hat from who he assumes is Puffy, a little black-and-white bunny drawn with shaky hands, a red bar with an error message, a smiling light brown cat giving him a thumbs up, the head of a creeper with redstone dust surrounding it, a stylized blue hedgehog, a pair of antlers. There’s a gold medallion with a little _sorry!_ next to it in bubble letters, a purple block of wool, and a familiar brightly colored head covering. He even sees a small, white mask off to the side, and that’s when it hits him all at once.

Wilbur sinks to his knees, cradling the proof of his friends’ care for him to his chest as gently as possible, and sobs. He thought that he had severed his bonds to the people of the server. He’d certainly tried to, whether because of a perceived betrayal on their part or to lessen the pain of what he saw as inevitable. He’d believed with all his heart that no one would mourn him, not really. Not in a way that couldn’t be moved on from soon enough. He’d assumed few would care, and even fewer would spare the time or energy to feel grief for him.

And yet.

They all painted a small picture on his guitar, even those he thought of as enemies. He doesn’t know how- did Tommy go around asking people to add a picture signature? Did he say why, or who for?

Did they know how much it would mean to him?

He doesn’t move from that position for a long time, and at some point he thinks someone comes and sits next to him. He feels the guitar shift as though someone is trying to gently remove it, and tightens his grip. The tug immediately stops, and there’s a quiet noise of understanding.

Wilbur comes back to himself eventually, the tides of emotion finally drawing back and letting him surface to seek air. Tornado is pressed against him, head buried in his side, and at some point he’s been shifted to be leaning on Techno.

He uses his sleeve to dry his face and exhales shakily, placing the painted guitar on his lap and running his fingers over it reverently. Beside him Techno huffs a vaguely amused and mostly fond laugh, watching the way Wilbur’s expression softens as he runs a finger over each little painting.

“I’ll take that to mean you like it?” He deadpans, laughing more when Wilbur elbows him in the ribs.

“Yeah,” He breathes, unable to tear his eyes away for more than a moment. “Yeah, I do. Thank you, Tech.”

And if his voice is choked up, and there are a few more tears sliding down his face, they both have the courtesy to pretend otherwise.

Late in the night, Wilbur climbs out onto the flat section of roof overlooked by his window, guitar in hand. He settles himself leaning against the wall next to the window, carefully beginning to tune the guitar.

He takes several deep breaths before placing his fingers on the strings, strumming gently just to get a feel for the instrument. It fits in his hands like it was made for them, and he spares the briefest thought to wonder where Phil got it from before his mind is tugged back to the strings.

He doesn’t try to play anything specific, not right away. Instead he plucks strings almost mindlessly, freezing when he realizes he’s unconsciously playing the L’Manberg anthem. Slower and more hesitant, yes, but still unmistakable. He hesitates for a long moment, fingers trembling, and then begins to move his hands on the strings again.

He doesn’t sing, doesn’t know if he could get the words out if he tried, but he plays through many of the songs he remembers. It’s a slow, fumbling sound full of missteps and missed notes, but it still soothes him in a way nothing else ever has. He falls asleep there, sitting crosslegged next to his window with the guitar resting in his lap.

He leaves the guitar at home the next time they visit the village, but this time when his friends are singing he tentatively joins in. His voice is creaky from lack of use and he doesn’t have nearly as much lung capacity as he had before, but he feels something settle into place inside him all the same. Next to Wilbur, Charlie raises his own volume as Wilbur begins to falter, providing him a sound to blend within. He winks in response to the grateful look Wilbur shoots him, and no one mentions anything but later their faces seem a bit brighter than usual when they begin to split off and leave.

Wilbur reteaches himself to play the guitar, and though he can’t bring himself to write more music he slowly starts to feel more comfortable playing his old songs. He writes to his friends and treasures the letters he receives in return, tends to his garden of daffodils, walks his dog and visits New Milo, spends time with his father and brother.

He still wakes up shaking some nights, still locks himself in his room with only Tornado when his paranoia flares, still has times where the static in his mind flares and it’s all he can do to just keep breathing. But those days are fewer, now, and further between. He hurts, and he learns to live with the pain.

Maybe Karl was right, Wilbur thinks once with some amusement. Maybe the universe is kind after all.

He sits across from Phil one afternoon, late summer sunshine streaming through the windows and resting warmly on his shoulders, and when he speaks his voice is quiet but sure.

“I think I’m ready to go back to L’Manberg.”

**Author's Note:**

> hey, thanks for reading
> 
> so, i have plans for one more fic in this series. it'll involve wilbur arriving back in l'manberg and starting to rebuild a life, while reconnecting and catching up with the people there. mostly fluff, bc i feel like yall kinda deserve something soft after this and the last one :'
> 
> just.. a happy ending, yknow?
> 
> and yeah, i know, a therapy dog and not friend? what's with the name and thing with zombies? well, there's an easy explanation. tornado was my minecraft dog, and she died defending me from zombies so i wrote her in because she was a very good dog, and she deserves to be remembered. it's.. really that simple :'
> 
> also yes that is charlie slimecicle LMAO


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